


Reawaken

by Fictionista654



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Post-Magic Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 13:46:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19724887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionista654/pseuds/Fictionista654
Summary: When they're attacked by sorcerers, Merlin's forced to use his magic to protect Arthur and Gwaine. But the spell does something to him, and suddenly Merlin doesn't recognize them and won't say a word. Whatever Arthur and Gwaine may feel, they have to get Merlin back to Camelot before they lose him forever.In the end, they had to tie Merlin to a tree so he wouldn’t run off in the middle of the night. He spat and growled, and swiped clawed hands at them. “He’ll get better,” Gwaine said when he and Arthur were seated by the fire, a little way away from Merlin, who seemed to be gently gnawing on his forearm.Arthur stared into the fire with a clenched jaw, shadows running over his face. Gwaine had just about given up on Arthur speaking when he said, “Merlin lied to us for years.”





	Reawaken

They found him in a cave. He was nothing but bones and hollow eyes, and he screamed when they tried to lead him into the sunlight. “Merlin,” said the golden man. “Merlin, _please_.” But he refused to move from his spot nestled against the cave’s wall, even though the sharp bits dug into his back and made him bleed. He was used to bleeding. Everyone was talking at him, so he shut his eyes and felt the earth. He traced the seismic quivers, stretching his awareness far into the soil and out over the top of the lake. 

“Hey, Merlin, remember me?” He shied away from the too-loud voice, but a hand on his arm yanked him back. It was the shaggy one, with a roughhewn face and dark eyes. The man’s hands were calloused and dirty, but gentle. “Hey, hey,” shushed the man. “Do you remember me?”

He put a hand on the man’s armor. A word—a name—floated just beneath his conscious awareness. But even without a name, he felt safe with this man, and slowly shifted towards him. “That’s it,” the man said. “You’ve got it.” He didn’t make him leave the cave the way the other man had. Instead, this man carefully put his arms around his shoulders and pulled him close.

“Ahh,” he whispered. He had not been touched in so long. And then the golden man was there, shoving the shaggy one out of the way.

“I order you to remember me.” The golden man got too close, and he lashed his magic through the air, sending the man into the wall.

“Oh, gods,” said the golden man, picking himself off the floor. “So he really was doing magic back there.”

The shaggy man glanced from the golden man to him to the golden man again. “Does that change anything for you?” There was a tense silence, which he took advantage of by curling into a ball, his face away from both of them.

“No,” said the golden man. “Of course not. _Merlin_!”

He flinched and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what he would do if the golden man came near him again. His head was heavy, and he thought he might have to sleep. The world was fuzzy, and he burrowed deeper into his own thoughts.

“Enough,” said the golden man. “We’re going. Take his feet, Gwaine. Don’t you dare fight back, Merlin. We’re not leaving you to rot.”

***

In the end, they had to tie Merlin to a tree so he wouldn’t run off in the middle of the night. He spat and growled, and swiped clawed hands at them. “He’ll get better,” Gwaine said when he and Arthur were seated by the fire, a little way away from Merlin, who seemed to be gently gnawing on his forearm. 

Arthur stared into the fire with a clenched jaw, shadows running over his face. Gwaine had just about given up on Arthur speaking when he said, “Merlin lied to us for years.”

“Yes,” said Gwaine. He poked at a burning log with a stick and golden sparks showered the ground. Somewhere, an owl hooted. 

“I don’t even recognize him,” Arthur said. “He’s an animal.”

“We’ll get him to Gaius,” said Gwaine. “He’ll know what to do.”

“Do you think he knows?”

Gwaine picked meat out of his teeth as he contemplated this. “I couldn’t say, sire.” Arthur’s eyes jumped up to meet Gwaine’s.

“I’ve never heard you so serious, Gwaine.”

“Not much worth being serious about.”

Merlin keened, and Arthur flinched. “Shut up, Merlin.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Arthur,” snapped Gwaine. “He’s mad.”

“Just the other day he was making an impassioned argument for a day off. Now he doesn’t even know his own name.” Arthur’s voice got louder and louder until he was shouting. “Look at him! He’s—” Arthur floundered for words. “—he’s no better than a magical creature.”

“That’s enough,” said Gwaine, and to his surprise, Arthur quieted. Merlin keened again. “I’ll check on him.” Arthur nodded shortly.

Merlin, tied to a large oak, was close enough to the fire to feel its warmth but not close enough that he would offend Arthur’s vision. Gwaine had argued that it wasn’t fair to leave Merlin so far out of the circle of warmth, but Arthur had just said that Merlin could heat himself with magic if he had to. But this Merlin didn’t look like he could do anything. Even in his clothes, everything about him was wild. His shoulders were raised like hackles, and his eyes darted every which way.

“Hello, you,” said Gwaine, crouching so he and Merlin were level. “You gave all of us a scare today.” He gave Merlin time to answer, but, of course, he didn’t. “Where’s your mind gone?”

The noise Merlin made cut through Gwaine like a knife, it was so piteous. Gwaine wasn’t sure what to do, so he treated Merlin like he’d treat any wounded thing, and ran a soothing hand down Merlin’s arm. At first, Merlin tried to twist away, but just when Gwaine was about to give up, Merlin relaxed. Gwaine did, too, sitting all the way on the ground and holding Merlin in his arms.

“What are you doing?”

Gwaine didn’t move. “He was lonely. Sire.”

“He’s dangerous.”

Gwaine laughed. “Merlin’s no danger to us. Look at him.” He rubbed his knuckles along Merlin’s cheek, and Merlin pressed his whole face into the touch, his blue eyes fluttering closed. Arthur hovered as Gwaine rubbed his thumb back and forth along one sharp cheekbone. Merlin snuffled.

“I’ll take first watch,” said Arthur. “You should sleep now.”

“I’ll sleep right here,” said Gwaine. 

Arthur looked like he wanted to slap him, but in the end, he silently turned away.

“It’s all right, Merlin,” whispered Gwaine. “I’ve got you.”

***

The morning hadn’t even dawned when Arthur announced they were breaking camp. Not that Gwaine minded; he wanted to bring Merlin to Gaius as fast possible. Getting Merlin to move, however, was a challenge. He dug his fingers into the tree, and neither Gwaine nor Arthur could pull him away.

“It’s magic,” Gwaine said after they’d tugged and yanked and done everything they could to pry him away. “Do you see how the tips of his fingers are inside the wood? He’s not moving unless he wants to.”

“We could always cut his hands off,” said Arthur. “Merlin, do you hear that? We’re going to cut your hands off.” They didn’t, of course.

“It might help to ask _why_ he doesn’t want to move,” Gwaine said.

“And he’ll just answer us, will he?” said Arthur. Merlin, the right side of his face smashed against the tree trunk, watched them suspiciously. “If he won’t move, we’ll have to put him down.”

“ _Put him down_?” spat Gwaine. “He’s human.”

“He’s a sorcerer,” Arthur said, as if he were correcting him. “He’ll be killed no matter what we do with him.”

Gwaine reached for his sword, but Arthur was faster, and had the tip of his sword at Gwaine’ throat before he could draw his own.

“Arthur,” Gwaine said, but that was all he got to before Arthur was sprawled on his back, Merlin standing over him. When Arthur made to get up, a ring of light blazed through Merlin’s pupils, and Arthur’s head slammed back against the ground.

“Nice one,” said Gwaine, and was treated to a scowl courtesy of Arthur. “But you have to let him go, Merlin.”

Merlin cocked his head, and Gwaine wondered if he could even understand. But then he stepped back, and Arthur flew to his feet, snatching up his sword. There was a horrible moment where Gwaine thought Arthur might attack Merlin, but Arthur sheathed his sword and stalked off towards the horses. “I’m leaving,” he said over his shoulder. “Follow if you like.”

“Come on,” said Gwaine, smiling at Merlin. “Always keep moving, right?” He held out his hand.

After a moment, Merlin took it.

***

They broke for lunch a little after midday, the horses wet with sweat from the brutal pace. This time, it was Arthur’s turn to sit alone; Merlin and Gwaine sat next to each other and shared a water skin. When Merlin drank too fast and spilled down the front of his tunic, Gwaine just laughed and tilted the skin down.

“How can you do it?” Arthur said suddenly. 

“Do what?” said Gwaine, biting off a piece of jerky with his teeth and passing the rest to Merlin.

“Act like he’s Merlin,” said Arthur. “Laugh with him. Act as though this isn’t horrific.”

“He’s in there, somewhere,” said Gwaine. “I know he is. Right, Merlin?”

Merlin seemed to be finally getting the hang of his own name, and turned to Gwaine. His face was blank, but his eyes darted around Gwaine’s face as though he were studying him. His lips parted, and Gwaine’s heart leaped. Was he about to…? But no. Merlin went back to his water.

“If Merlin were anywhere in there, he wouldn’t have been able to shut up for a second, let alone an entire day,” said Arthur. His eyes glittered in the cold winter light, and he stood abruptly. “I’m going to check on the horses.”

Gwaine put his head in his hands, and Merlin patted him inquisitively. “You made Arthur cry,” said Gwaine. Merlin tilted his head, and then stood. And then he proved that there really wasn’t any point tying him to a tree because he disappeared and reappeared right behind Arthur, who immediately whirled around and put Merlin in a headlock. Merlin cried out, and Arthur let go, resting his right hand on the pommel of his sword. 

“Well?” said Arthur. Merlin looked back at Gwaine, who nodded. He really hoped Merlin was going to do what Gwaine thought he was going to do, and that he hadn’t just endorsed the murder of the king of Camelot.

Merlin started to lift a loosely fisted hand, and Arthur started to pull out his sword. They stared at each other, and Gwaine held his breath. At last, Arthur re-sheathed his sword and nodded. Merlin raised his arm again until it was stretched straight out, his hand almost reaching Arthur’s chest. Slowly, he opened it.

A butterfly. A butterfly with golden gossamer wings. The world hushed. Then the butterfly flew up, up, up into the sky, raining down shimmering gold-dust. Merlin pointed at the butterfly, and then at Arthur.

“The butterfly’s for me?” said Arthur.

Merlin smiled. And then his forehead wrinkled, as though he were confused. He stumbled back, a terrible cry rising from his throat. Golden light rippled along his skin, and he curled over, gasping. Arthur and Gwaine rushed forward, but Merlin held out a hand, the universal sign for _stay away_. After an eternity that Gwaine spent with a breath caught in his throat and his stuck between beats, the light faded back into Merlin’s skin. Merlin fell to his knees, and this time Arthur was the one who comforted him.

***

“I think he’s remembering more,” said Gwaine, handing Merlin a bowl of stew, who immediately threw the spoon to the ground and dug in with his hand.

“I’m not sure I see it,” said Arthur.

“He knows his name now,” said Gwaine. “Watch. Merlin!”

Merlin glanced over, a chunk of potato clasped in his fist.

“Clearly we’re holding him to the highest standards,” Arthur said. 

“He made you a butterfly.”

“And then he burst into flames.”

“They weren’t flames,” argued Gwaine. “It was just…you know. Light.”

“Light that burned him.”

“Without leaving a mark!”

Merlin dropped his empty bowl and curled up beneath his blanket. He hadn’t fully recovered from whatever had happened, and had spent the rest of the day whimpering in pain. At least Arthur wasn’t treating Merlin like the enemy anymore, and Gwaine wasn’t worried to go to sleep and leave Merlin in Arthur’s care. When Arthur leaned back against a tree to begin his watch, Gwaine tried to get comfortable on his pallet. He was just drifting off when Arthur spoke.

“Can’t you do anything right?” said Arthur. Gwaine was about to protest that he actually could do quite a lot of things when Arthur added, “You really are the worst manservant anyone could ever have.” Gwaine opened his eyes a crack and saw Arthur running his hands through Merlin’s hair. He hurriedly closed them again, but he couldn’t help but listen. He had ears, didn’t he?

“I don’t know who you are.” Arthur’s voice trembled, and he coughed. “Were you ever my man, Merlin? I would have knighted you. Obviously, you’d have to learn how to run in a straight line first.” Gwaine could hear the smile in Arthur’s voice. It quickly dropped away. “I don’t understand where you went. Because you’re not really him. And I can’t begin to forgive him until he explains himself.” He coughed again.

“I know you’re asleep, but that’s no excuse. The Merlin I know wouldn’t shut up. He’d say things in his dreams. Of course he’d be useless at sleeping.” Arthur sighed, and the grass rustled as he shifted. “One night you sat straight up in bed, announced that you had to pick wormroot for Gaius, and went right back to sleep.”

Straight up in—Oh. Merlin and Arthur were lovers. Gwaine waited to feel surprise, but it didn’t come. He really shouldn’t be listening to this, but at this point, it had gone on too long for him to intercede. 

“I’ve never seen magic like that before,” said Arthur. “Without any words. I thought you’d rip apart.” The image came back to Gwaine: golden light streaming from Merlin’s eyes, his hands, his mouth, and the sorcerers who’d attacked them incinerated where they stood. And then Merlin had run without looking back. 

“You let me think you a fool,” Arthur continued. “But I didn’t think that. I never thought that. Oh, I suppose I thought it at first, but you quickly proved me wrong. Merlin, come back. I promise I won’t kill you. I promise. I might make you muck out the stables for the rest of your life, but I won’t kill you. Just come back to me. _Please_.” 

It was the first time Gwaine had ever heard Arthur use that word. It should have felt more satisfying, but all Gwaine felt was an intense grief that knotted his stomach. It might have been the first time he’d heard Arthur say please, but it was also the first time he’d heard Arthur sound truly broken.

***

Something was different in the morning. A sort of resignation had settled on the camp. They’d stopped hoping that Merlin would wake up himself. At least Merlin had started trusting them. And there some hope when Merlin got his horse ready without being asked. He even rode her for the first time, remembering how to use the reins. Mostly, though, he went along blankly, his eyes staring into a middle-distance that Gwaine and Arthur couldn’t see.

“Let’s stop for a drink in the next town?” said Gwaine in the most cheerful tone he could manage.

“Absolutely not,” said Arthur. “The last thing we need is someone stabbing you.” 

Half an hour later, they were sat at _The Midnight Rose_ , sipping at some truly awful ale. When Gwaine had offered Merlin a sip of his own cup, Merlin’s entire face screwed up like he’d bitten into a lemon. Gwaine had laughed. Arthur hadn’t.

“We need to go before he does anything…suspicious,” said Arthur. Gwaine raised an eyebrow.

“You’re worried he’ll break the law? But sire, you _are_ the law.”

“Keep it down,” Arthur hissed. 

Regrettably, the ale was doing what it always did and loosening Gwaine’s tongue. “It’s too bad you can’t change it and do something about the innocents persecuted because of the Pendragons. Then we could sit here without any f—”

“Gwaine,” said Arthur, throwing down the name like a gauntlet. “Not. Here.”

Which was fair. The townspeople in the pub were already sneaking glances at the strangers. Merlin, who was staring at a young man in the corner, wasn’t helping matters.

“You are going to die,” said Merlin. Arthur and Gwaine snapped to attention.

“What did you just say?” demanded Arthur. “You said something.”

“You are going to die,” Merlin repeated, his gaze still fixed on the youth, who fidgeted uncomfortably.

“He’s going to _what_?” said an unfortunately muscled man. 

“You are going to die. You are going to die. You are going to die.” 

“Merlin, shut up!” said Arthur. 

“Terribly sorry about our friend,” Gwaine said, swiveling in a circle so he could address the whole tavern. “He’s not well in the head.”

“No,” the youth said belligerently. “I want to hear this. How am I going to die?”

But Merlin tucked his chin into his chest and wouldn’t say any more. 

***

“We’re lucky we got out of there alive,” Gwaine said, forcing a laugh. Arthur’s grip on his reigns tightened, but he didn’t respond. “That was creepy, Merlin. I think you should stay away from fortune-telling from now on.”

Merlin, who hadn’t said anything else since the tavern, rested his head on his horse’s neck and gazed sideways at Gwaine. 

“Good point,” said Gwaine. He tilted his head as though he were listening to Merlin. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’d like to be warned, also.”

“Stop it,” roared Arthur, yanking on his reins. “Stop making a mockery out of this. If Merlin can see the future, what else can he see? Can he read our minds? Can he scry? We already know he can teleport wherever he wants, that he can burn men and women without fire, that he can create butterflies. We might be riding with one of the most dangerous men on earth, and you’re treating this like a joke.”

For once, Gwaine was speechless. He shifted uncomfortably on his saddle, sparing a glance for Merlin, whose face was mashed against his horse. But Arthur was right. Gwaine _didn’t_ know the full extent of Merlin’s powers. And he definitely didn’t know who Merlin was right now. A lump formed in his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” said Gwaine at last. 

Arthur assessed Gwaine’s face for sincerity, nodded, and resumed riding.

***

They would reach Camelot tomorrow. At last, this nightmare would be over. It was Arthur’s turn to cook, so they ate old bread instead. Merlin was the only one who seemed to actually enjoy it, happily chomping away. And then, between bites, he said, “He is dead.” Arthur passed a hand over his face.

“Maybe he’s wrong,” Gwaine offered.

He wasn’t. 

They were just settling down to sleep when a horse burst into the clearing, a girl on its back.

“Are you the ones who predicted my brother’s death?” she cried.

“Why?” said Arthur, rising from his pallet. “Is something wrong?”

“Which one is it?”

Merlin tugged at her trousers, and she looked down at him. “You?” He nodded, and she crouched before him. “My name is Sif. You used magic before. Can you use it again? Can you bring my brother back?” Merlin stared at her. 

“Please,” she said, and tears poured down her cheeks. “You won’t get in trouble. Look, I can do it too.” She struck one hand against the other, and sparks flew into the air. “But I don’t know enough. You have to help.”

She had just unknowingly done magic in front of the king of Camelot. And the king of Camelot kneeled beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking her in her eyes. “I am truly, truly sorry. But I don’t think my friend can help. No one can bring back the dead.”

Sif shook her head. “No. No, I know he can. He must.”

Arthur lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sif. Here.” He retrieved a sack of coins from inside his tunic and pressed it into her hands. “This is all we can do.”

Sif held it numbly. Her mouth quivered. She couldn’t have been more than twelve.

“Your parents will be missing you,” said Gwaine. “It’s dangerous in the woods. Do you want one of us to—”

“I know these woods like I know myself,” snapped Sif. “I can find my own way back. Thank you for the coin.” 

“Don’t thank me,” said Arthur. “I wish we could do more.” 

“But you can’t,” Sif said flatly. She climbed onto her horse and looked down at Merlin. “Did you predict it, or did you make it happen?”

Merlin looked back at her, silent.

***

When the citadel came into view beneath the rise, Gwaine could have cried in relief. Finally, they’d talk to someone with knowledge. Gaius would find to fix Merlin. But Arthur looked grim. “I assume I have your word that you won’t tell anyone what transpired on our journey.”

“You have more than my word,” said Gwaine. “I would never do anything to endanger Merlin.” The words _like you_ hovered in the air between them.

“Good,” said Arthur. “Let’s go home.”

When they rode into the courtyard, Guinevere raced up to them, her blue skirts bunched in her hands. “You’re back!”

“We’re back,” Gwaine agreed, hopping off his horse and handing it off to a stable-boy. 

“What’s the matter?” said Gwen, taking in their faces. “Did something happen?”

“Let them breathe, my love,” said Lancelot coming up behind her. Then he frowned, too. “What’s wrong with Merlin?”

Merlin was staring at the castle like he’d never see it before, his eyes wide.

“We’ll explain later,” Arthur said heavily. “I’m getting him to Gaius.”

“We’ll come, too,” said Gwen, hurrying along side them into the castle. “Will some please tell me what’s wrong?”

“Merlin,” said Lancelot, putting a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin made a small noise and shied away. “Merlin?”

“Don’t crowd him,” said Gwaine, trying to hold Gwen and Lancelot back at the base of the stairs as Arthur hurried Merlin up them.

“Gwaine,” said Gwen. “Let. Us. Through.” He looked at her. He looked at Lance. And then he sighed and dropped his arms.

“Come on, then,” he said.

***

Gaius was not happy. “I’m not happy,” he said. 

“Can you fix him?” said Arthur.

“Not if you won’t tell me what’s wrong. Open up, Merlin.” Obediently, Merlin’s mouth dropped open.

“There’s nothing wrong with his _teeth_ ,” Arthur said furiously. “Why are you looking in there?”

“I’m sure Gaius knows what he’s doing,” said Gwen, though her voice sounded just as anxious as Arthur’s.

“You say this came on suddenly?” said Gaius, peering down Merlin’s as if the answer were down there. “Do you concur, Gwaine?”

“Arthur,” said Gwaine. “I’m sure he knows.” Arthur’s jaw tensed, and Gwaine suddenly understood. Of course Arthur knew that Gaius knew; how couldn’t he? But if Arthur admitted that he knew Merlin had magic, if lost his plausible deniability…

“Knows what?” said Gwen, her gaze whipping from person to person. “What does he know? What’s wrong with Merlin?”

“He did magic,” said Lancelot. “Didn’t he.” Arthur turned away.

“You knew?” said Gwaine at the same time Gwen said, “Magic? Merlin can’t do magic!”

“We all know that’s a lie,” said Arthur.

“I don’t!” said Gwen. “There’s no way. _Merlin_? You must be mistaken…” But her voice trailed off.

Merlin, who was still sitting on the bench where Arthur had placed him, grabbed Gwen’s hand. She stared down at their entangled fists. 

“I think that’s enough realizations for one day,” said Gaius. “Tell me what happened.”

They told the story awkwardly, repeating things and skipping other things and coming back to them in various circuitous ways. The whole time, Merlin played with Gwen’s hand, folding and unfolding and refolding her fingers. Suddenly, Gwen gasped and held out her hand. There, on her forefinger, glinted a golden ring.

“Merlin!” said Lance. “You can’t take things from my pocket!”

“Can I still say yes?” said Gwen. 

“Gwen…”

“Lance…”

“I believe congratulations are in order,” said Gaius. “Now kindly get out so I can treat my patient.” He looked pointedly at Arthur. “You too, sire.”

***

A shaft of light illuminated the dust motes in the air, and Merlin—who by now had learned his name—lazily swirled them around with a finger. The old man pulled up a chair and sat facing him.

“Merlin,” said the old man. “Do you remember me?”

It wasn’t as hard to think as it had been in the beginning, and the answer was suddenly there as if it had been all along. _Gaius_. But Merlin’s tongue was still clumsy, and the words were still so far away, so he settled for nodding.

“Good,” said Gaius. “Good.” He looked away, and Merlin could see tears in his eyes. He wished he could help him, but the last time he’d tried to make someone happy, it had hurt so badly. 

“Do you know I love you as though you were my own child? You ought to know that,” said Gaius. 

Merlin wasn’t sure how, but he did know. He nodded again.

“I know I’m just a foolish old man. But I’m much more observant than you think.” Gaius paused, and Merlin knew he was trying to hold back his tears. He didn’t understand why everyone wasted so much time trying not to cry, when you could just cry and be done with it.

“I’m observant,” Gaius continued. “I know of your true relationship with Arthur.” Merlin blinked, not really sure what Gaius meant. “You think I didn’t notice that you never slept in your own bed?”

Had he not? Merlin tried to remember his bed, but came up blank. 

“I don’t think magic did this,” said Gaius. “I think you’ve done it to yourself. I think you so were afraid that Arthur wouldn’t love you anymore that you hid yourself in your own head. But Merlin, you stupid boy. Arthur would never stop loving you.” 

Deep within Merlin’s brain, a door cracked open. He wrapped his arms around himself, remembering that someone else used to do that. Someone else used to hold him like this…

“I’ll be right back,” said Gaius, heaving himself out of his chair. Merlin hugged himself tighter and and bowed his head. His heart felt cold in his chest. He sat like that for a long time, until the door opened and closed and the chair creaked as someone sat down.

“Gaius told me to come,” said Arthur. Merlin looked at him. In all the days he’d known Arthur, he had never seen him this grim, and he’d seen Arthur plenty grim before. Shadows pooled beneath his sculpted cheekbones and beneath his cool blue eyes.

“This is it,” said Arthur. “The last chance. Apparently, if this doesn’t work, nothing will. So.”

Merlin didn’t want to see Arthur this unhappy, so he laid his head in Arthur’s lap and tried to think positive things at him. At first, Arthur sat stiffly, but he soon warmed up and stroked the side of Merlin’s face with his thumb. 

“I shouldn’t do this,” Arthur said. “I shouldn’t allow a sorcerer to beguile me. But I think you’ve punished yourself enough. Gaius said…Gaius said the pain you felt after the butterfly was your way of punishing yourself. He said you’ve turned your mind and magic both against yourself because you were afraid.” His hand faltered. “Because you were afraid of me.”

Something wet landed on Merlin’s cheek, and then another drop, and then another. He raised his head and looked silently at Arthur. “I’m supposed to remind you,” Arthur said, his voice as steady as if he weren’t crying. “Now, we both know you have a terrible memory because you can never remember anything I tell you to do, but you’ll just have to try, all right?”

Merlin could try. He could even give Arthur his hands. Arthur squeezed them a bit too tight, but it was all right. It didn’t hurt.

“In the morning,” said Arthur, “you poke me and tell me if I don’t clean my teeth, you’ll find another knob head to serve. I pull my pillow over my head, and you pry it off and throw it at the wall.”

The pillow was white, thought Merlin. The pillow was white, and the blankets were red.

“Usually this goes on for a while, until I finally push you out of bed. Then you go get us breakfast, and you’re so impatient that you eat half of it on the way back. And then you try to eat half of what’s left, which really isn’t nice of you.”

 _Merlin! You ate all the eggs!_ The imaginary voice was as clear as Arthur’s real one, and Merlin’s head jerked up.

“Then we go down to the practice fields, and I beat everyone while you polish whatever armor I’m not using and pretend not to be impressed.” The sunlight shifted, and brightened Arthur’s face until it looked like he was glowing from the inside. “Afterwards, you corner me in the armory, or I corner you, and we kiss. I’ll show you.” Arthur brushed his lips against Merlin’s.

_The wall is hard against Merlin’s back and Arthur’s mouth is soft, and Arthur smells like sweat and Merlin smells like polish, and Merlin’s never felt so warm inside—_

“We kiss,” said Arthur, a little desperately. “We kiss, and then we have lunch, and you wipe me down with a wet cloth.”

“You can’t clean yourself?” said Merlin.

The breath whooshed out of Arthur’s lungs. “No,” said Arthur. “But I have learned to clean you. Because then we meet with the members of the Round Table, and I pretend that having you over my shoulder and not being able to touch you isn’t the most painful thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“And then we go to your rooms.”

“Yes,” said Arthur, starting to smile through his tears. “We go to _our_ rooms and I have the servants bring us a bath, and we sit in it together, and I soak the cloth in water and squeeze over your head, and you splash me. And then we usually kiss again, and somehow…” He faltered. “Somehow the bathwater is still hot.”

“I use magic,” said Merlin.

Arthur let out a shaky breath. “Yes, I suppose you do. You use magic, and the bathwater never goes cold, and take one of your arms and run the cloth up and down—”

Merlin wrinkled his nose. “It feels like a cow’s tongue.”

“It’s supposed to be sensual, Merlin, but you were never one to understand the finer points of life.”

“Just because I don’t insist on silk sheets doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the finer things,” said Merlin, and this time it was his turn to kiss Arthur. 

“So, right,” said Arthur. “We do that some more. And then we do, you know. Other things.”

“Sex?” said Merlin.

“Tactful as always,” said Arthur. He put his hands on Merlin’s shoulders. “Yes, sex. I kiss every inch of your body, and you kiss every inch of mine. And for a little bit, we are one.

“And then we get beneath the covers and I put my arms around you and you press your face into my neck and I’m drifting off when you say something like, _Do you think crows get homesick when they migrate?_ and I say, _Merlin, I have a sword, and I swear I’ll use it._ And then we fall asleep. And then I wake up to you poking me.”

The next kiss was long, and Merlin went weak at the feeling of Arthur’s tongue sweeping the inside of Merlin’s cheek. “I can’t believe I forgot,” he whispered against Arthur’s mouth. “I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m so, so sorry.”

“No,” said Arthur. “I’m sorry. Well, actually, you should be sorry. But it’s my fault you were afraid to tell me. I’ve tried to be a good king, I’ve tried not to make the same mistakes as my father, but I was blind to the truth.” He rested his forehead against Merlin’s. “Will you forgive me?”

Merlin screwed up his nose. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about.”

“Merlin!”

He grinned. “Of course I forgive you. Just don’t it again.”

“And you don’t forget me again,” said Arthur.

“I can’t think of a thing I’m less likely to do,” said Merlin, and kissed Arthur again.

***

Everything seemed to be going well in Camelot. Gwen and Lance were married, Merlin got a seat at the Round Table, and Arthur had a smile permanently affixed to his face.

And Gwaine had ale. Beautiful, comforting, always-there ale. “Another,” he said, sliding his mug across the bar.

“Are you sure you need that?” said Merlin, sitting down next to him.

“Yes,” said Gwaine. “It’s imperative. Thanks, Madge. This is why you’re the love of my life.”

The barmaid rolled her eyes and went back to wiping down a used mug.

“Come on, now,” said Merlin. “You can tell me what’s wrong.”

Gwaine stared down into the depths of his worryingly murky ale. “Oh, Merlin. You’re happy. Don’t let me bring you down.”

“Oh, gods, you’re so dramatic,” said Merlin.

“I’m a drunk,” said Gwaine, glancing at Merlin. “Being dramatic is a requirement.” He picked up his mug to take a sip, frowned, and checked inside. “You vanished my ale! I paid for that!”

“Did you?” said Merlin. “Oh, well.” He touched Gwaine’s arm, and suddenly they were in the courtyard, the sun streaming down on them. Everyone was pretty much used to Merlin appearing and disappearing on a whim, and most of the people around them didn’t even blink. It was certainly very different from the first Gwaine had seen it happen, when Arthur had drawn his sword.

“Merlin, this is ridiculous. Bring me back!”

“You sound like Arthur,” said Merlin, waving someone down. “Percival! Sir Percival!”

Percy wandered towards them, a bunny rabbit cuddled in his massive arms. “I found this little guy in the stables,” he said. “Do you want to pet him?”

“The jokes I could make,” Gwaine said. “So many.” But he rubbed a finger down the rabbit’s head. Its little snout twitched, and fine, fine, it was adorable. 

“She likes you,” said Percy.

“That’s what they all say.” Gwaine looked around for Merlin, but the cheeky bastard had disappeared.

“Do you want to come with me to the woods? I’m going to set it free.”

“I could think of worse ways to spend an afternoon,” said Gwaine. And so they went to the woods and set the rabbit free and did other things besides.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second time trying to upload pray for me


End file.
